The Right Words
by Sunrays and Saturdays
Summary: Sequel to The Last Page. Neither Grissom nor Sara can sleep after the misunderstanding about the last page, and during the next shift at work Grissom finds himself struggling because he can't find the right words. Reviews are appreciated.


**Authors Notes: This is a sequel to "The Last Page". A few people requested a sequel, I'd been working on this one a while ago when I'd finished "The Last Page" but I'd struggled with the ending. I hope it isn't too boring. It hasn't been beta'd, as like I said, I haven't heard from my old beta in a while... :( I've tried to avoid mistakes as much as I can but there's only so much I can do...**

* * *

**_The Right Words_**

* * *

**Sara**

* * *

She sometimes liked it in the locker room. There was something strangely comforting about it, with the dingy darkness, the faded scent of cheap cologne, and the rattling sound that echoed across the whole room as she closed her locker. The air was warm, but she let her forehead rest against the cold metal of her locker door and felt her skin cool almost blissfully in response. 

It had been a long day – a long, uncomfortable, sleepless one. The air stifling hot, the light drapes of her bedroom had not been able to filter out the harsh sunlight nor the thick almost claustrophobic heat from it.

To be honest, she wasn't sure what had made it more impossible to sleep; the hot weather, or the events of that morning still fresh in her mind playing over and over.

Sara Sidle was very aware she'd handled the situation badly, she'd jumped to conclusions. Gil Grissom had suggested she treat the last page like a piece of evidence, and she found herself wondering what his reaction would be when he saw it again. Now it was crumpled, the text smudged from the sweat of her palm, and the little trace of dirt that it had picked up when she'd thrown it on the ground when she'd stood in the parking lot.

She still found it almost impossible to believe he'd cut the page from the book. To him books were sacred, Gil Grissom couldn't imagine why people would want to sell their old second hand books let alone damage them. It had only vaguely registered when she'd first discovered the page, but now to think of him sitting at his desk cutting with such surgical precision the final page of the novel, it must have felt like a sacrilege.

Pulling herself out of her reverie, she sat on the nearest bench and laid the last page of Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Scarlet down and tried to flatten it carefully. In the back of her mind she was sure she was aware she was probably making it worse. If the book could have been repaired when he'd originally sliced through the paper, there were no chances it could ever be repaired now.

That book would always be incomplete now, and she wondered if that was a sign her relationship with Grissom was doomed to the same. Would there ever be an ending or would things simply go on as they had?

She took a glance at her watch and sighed, the start of shift was less than twenty minutes away and she'd spent ten minutes in the locker room pacing. She wasn't sure she wanted to bring up the subject of the page, or let it all slide until it was long forgotten about and no longer an issue.

_The fact I didn't understand and that he couldn't explain it maybe proves we aren't on the same page at all,_ Sara thought miserably.

Approaching footsteps brought her out of her thoughts, and she looked up just in time to see Warrick Brown and Greg Sanders walk into the locker room, Greg already shedding his light denim jacket before he'd even finished entering.

"Hey," Warrick said, he'd barely made it to his locker when the phone in the back pocket of his dark blue jeans started to ring.

Greg's eyes flitted to Sara for just a moment, and then away again as he made his way to his own locker, and opened it. There was something about his complete posture that seemed off, he looked awkward and aloof.

Warrick reached into his pocket to retrieve the phone and he glanced at the display momentarily and gave a sigh and a roll of the eyes.

"The wife?" Greg queried.

"Who else," Warrick asked, "She's only called me four times since I left the house," he grumbled as he shoved his backpack and jacket in the locker and breezed out, his voice distant down the hall as he answered the phone to his wife.

Greg and Sara looked at each other briefly then turned from each other. There was a tension between her and Greg that hadn't been there before, and she couldn't help but feel that the last page of Grissom's book was the cause of it all.

"Makes you almost glad to be single," Sara found her voice, hoping it would be the ice breaker and ease them into friendly conversation, but Greg only gave a shrug, which seemed more detached than usual.

Sara stood up slowly, "do you, uh, want to go grab some coffee before the start of shift?"

"Nope."

_At least he answered me,_ Sara thought, she still felt a little startled by the coldness in his voice. But Greg's behavior towards her she felt was a little uncalled for. Chances were she'd be working along side him at some point during the shift and she wasn't in the mood to tolerate this sudden indifference he had.

"Y'know, if you, uh, have a problem with me, you should just say, because I don't want to go through this whole shift feeling like I've pissed you off."

"You haven't pissed me off," Greg said, and gave another one of those detached shrugs, but he wouldn't turn and look at her.

"Then what?" Sara asked, she folded her arms, "This isn't because I spent more money on Grissom's birthday than yours, is it? Because I got him an antique book and all you got was a miniature bottle of Peach Schnapps and a Snickers?"

Greg paused at his locker, he'd been fumbling around inside it, going through a pile of CDs that had been there long since the days he'd been nothing more than a lab rat. Sara had the feeling he'd just been picking up the CDs so he had something to do, so he didn't have to look at her.

He turned slowly to face her, "You think that's what this is about?" he blinked, "you think I'm that shallow?" his voice quavered.

"No, I don't think that," Sara answered after a moment, "I know you're not that shallow…but if that's not what this is about then I don't know what it is…"

"It's about the…God, I don't know," he turned and shut his locker, "the consideration or something, I don't know. I just know that I feel really cheap all of a sudden."

"I don't understand," Sara admitted.

Greg sat down on the bench, "Sara, how long have we been friends?"

"Uh…seven years," Sara replied, and she sat beside him, she waited for his reply.

"Sara…I don't even like Snickers."

"Oh."

* * *

**Grissom**

* * *

It seemed unnatural to him that he'd been reluctant to come to work. Normally nothing could keep him from work, because as far as he'd always been concerned work was his home. Whenever he stepped through the door of his office, he felt as if he were coming home from a hard day's shift rather than the other way around. 

Going to work meant having to face Sara, and having to face Sara meant trying to repair some of the damage he'd caused their friendship that same morning. It was probably irreparable by now, and he'd spent all day lying in bed wondering if he should do as Sara had suggested. _Forget it._ It seemed to be what she expected of him anyway.

It had been hard to try and sleep. That white box with the first edition of A Study in Scarlet lay on the nightstand, and there was something ominous about its presence. As he closed his eyes and opened them he'd wish it were no longer there, that everything had just been a dream that he'd wake from. When his eyes were closed and he were close to drifting off, he'd have to snap his eyes open just to make sure it was still there, and that he hadn't dreamed it.

A few times he'd picked up the phone, intent on calling Sara, but each time he'd lost his nerve before hitting the speed-dial number. He hadn't known what to say to her when she'd been in her office, and admittedly he didn't know what to say now.

It had been hard enough to drag himself out of bed after ten straight hours of lying there. The alarm had gone off for forty minutes straight before he'd even found the willpower to lean over and turn it off. It wasn't until the phone beside his bed had started ringing had he pulled himself up from the mattress.

He'd thought – if only for a hopeful second – that it might be Sara, that finally she'd have understood what he'd tried to say with the gift of the last page from the book she'd given him. Instead he'd been disappointed to learn that it was Catherine on the phone, her daughter Lindsay had fallen down the front steps outside their house and had broken her leg, Catherine had to go to the hospital with her and wouldn't make it to work.

Grissom supposed that was when he'd admitted defeat to himself, and went to go get ready for work. After a cool shower to wash away the sweat from a long days tossing and turning in the scorching heat, he stood at the sink for a good half hour shaving, although most of that time was spent lost in thought.

He'd spent what must have been close to seven years working with Sara, and had made no real progress in getting close to her. For one split second, when she'd stepped into his office that morning with the page in her hand, he'd almost thought it had all changed. That maybe the next twenty-five years of his life wouldn't be spent the same as the last twenty-five years had; alone.

So completely distracted by what was going on in his head, he had lost all control of what his hands seemed to be doing and it was too late by the time he'd discovered he'd gone too far in shaving around his beard, and had shaved a little too much off. In a moment of frustration realizing he'd never fix his error he decided to shave away the whole thing, adding to more time spent over the sink when by now he should have been getting in his car and driving to work.

_I've been in worse condition than this, _he thought, trying to pull himself out of the pool of despair he felt he'd been drowning in ever since she'd walked out of his office after giving him that one last look of disdain.

The drive to work seemed to take longer than usual, and by the time he arrived through the doors of the LVPD crime lab, he was already over fifteen minutes late. He got his messages from the desk, the assignments for the shift, and gave them a quick glance through as he headed towards the break room where he predicted they'd all be.

The first thing he heard as he stepped through the door was Warrick's comment of, "Griss, you're late. First Cath, and now you?"

"Cath's not coming in, Lindsay fell down the steps in front of their house."

Warrick looked at his boss with concern, "is she alright?"

"Broken leg, Cath is at the hospital with her now," Grissom said, he felt the weight of his staff's stare where there was no longer any graying beard to hide the slight cleft in his chin and the extra weight he'd put on around his face. Or maybe it was just the piece of tissue paper sticking to the tiny cut on his jaw that he'd just realized he'd forgotten to remove before coming to work.

"What happened to your face?" Greg asked, his eyes were laughing.

"Fight with a razor," Grissom muttered, brushing his jaw to remove the piece of tissue.

"And the razor won, evidently," Warrick smirked.

"For one minute there, Griss, I thought you were trying to turn back the hands of time and look younger," Greg grinned.

Grissom pursed his lips and frowned, deciding to dismiss the comment altogether with a warning stare. He flicked through the assignments for a moment. "Greg and Warrick, trick roll at the Tangiers," he held out an assignment towards Warrick, who was nearest.

"Trick roll?" Greg groaned in dismay.

_Otherwise known as the penalty for starting on me when I'm not the mood, Sanders. Live and learn, _Grissom thought smugly as he gave Greg a wry smile.

Grissom sifted through the rest of the assignments, "here we go...Nick, four-o-one-A out in the desert," he reeled off as Nick took the assignment sheet, his eyes fell briefly to Sara, who seemed to be acting as nonchalant as if nothing had ever happened. The problem was, even though she hid it well, there was still some of that morning's history deep in her dark brown eyes.

"Sara…four-twenty-six," he held out the assignment.

Sara however, just sat and stared up at Grissom momentarily as if in a trance.

"Something wrong?" Grissom dared to ask.

"Sorry, I uh…I was just used to the beard," was all she could reply with.

"So was I," Grissom shrugged, "sometimes things change," he put the assignment slip down on the table.

It wasn't until he'd left the break room that he quietly uttered to himself, "And then sometimes they don't."

* * *

**Sara

* * *

**

"Do the words mid-life crisis ring a bell, here?"

Sara turned to look at Greg, "mid-life crisis?" she raised an eyebrow. She'd been momentarily lost in thought over Grissom's comment. _Sometimes things change. What does he mean by that? Is that his way of saying that his feelings changed since this morning? Why does he have to be so Goddamn cryptic?_

"Grissom…coming late in to work, shavin' the fuzz off his face…did you notice he hadn't even buttoned that shirt right?" Greg elaborated.

"He probably slept in," Sara remarked, she picked up her assignment slip and headed for the door.

Warrick gave a snort at her back, "yeah, right. You've worked with Griss for…what…seven years? You still haven't learned he _never_ sleeps in?"

Sara glanced down at the slip, "sometimes things change," was the first sentence that popped into her head, which was probably why her friends looked at her so suspiciously. She noted their peculiar glances, but shrugged off the concern about it and left to deal with her case.

Her four-twenty-six was a rape case that had happened at a nearby high school. A group of seniors had broken into the school and were partying with an abundance of liquor and drugs.

One of the girls of the group had drunkenly wandered off and been assaulted and raped in the gymnasium by an unknown assailant. The gymnasium had been dark, and the girl was almost too incoherent to rely on for any kind of real description.

After getting what little evidence there was from the crime scene, she had to wait around at the hospital for the girl to be examined and to get the rape kit. For this short this kept her busy enough to take her mind off of Grissom and the page from the book. By the time she'd arrived back at the lab to hand the evidence in and make her initial reports, however, it was a completely different story.

Grissom was discussing something with Judy at the reception desk, Sara didn't slow in the hall to hear what he was saying, she only continued down the hall, handed in whatever evidence she had, and made her way towards the break room.

_At least Grissom is doing a great job of pretending nothing ever happened. I wish I could be like him, and just not care. Just get on with my life and stop thinking about it…_

She poured herself a cup of coffee – neglecting to put milk and sugar in as was her usual habit. Perhaps the stronger and more bitter it tasted, the faster it would awaken her.

She took a seat at the table. Her backside had barely hit the chair the door to the break room opened and Grissom breezed in.

"How's the case going?" Grissom asked, his voice had that direct cadence that came with his business-like manner. He didn't even look at her, he went straight for the coffee mug, grabbed his new tarantula mug from the shelf where he'd left it the night before, and poured himself a cup.

Sara paused for a moment, trying to decide whether to give him a straight answer, or to instead completely change the subject.

_But what would I say? 'I get it now, Grissom. I'm the missing page – that's by the way ever so slightly damaged – no thanks to you'._

Sara pulled herself back to earth, "Uh, it's, uhm…" she tried to find the right words, she had a hard time concentrating, fatigue was starting to drag her under it's spell, "going slowly. Victim is a seventeen year old who was plastered during the attack," she explained, "she was so tanked she couldn't even describe who attacked her…the only thing she can seem to remember is 'it was dark'."

"Suspects?" Grissom asked, he sipped his coffee thoughtfully.

"Three guys she was partying with. Her best friend said she was with all three of the guys at the time of the assault," Sara sighed, and sipped her coffee too.

Grissom glanced at her cup, "you don't drink black coffee," he commented.

Sara glanced down into her cup, "what is it you said earlier? Oh yeah…_sometimes things change_," she said rather coolly.

"Yeah…I, uh…" he stared down into his own cup as if he were looking for answers. After a few moments of reflecting, he put his cup down on the table and sat down opposite her, his eyes were on the tabletop, his expression sheepish. He chewed the inside of his cheek, and for a moment, he looked almost boyish.

_Is he going to continue talking or am I supposed to say something to release him from the obligation?_ Sara wondered. Since she had no answer to her own question she decided to leave it to time and quietly drank her coffee, waiting

Grissom glanced up and his eyes finally met hers. It was the first time she'd taken the time to properly look at his eyes since this morning, he looked suddenly older around the eyes, and she wasn't sure if it was just exhaustion or if his age was catching up to his face.

"Sara," he said, finally, giving a sigh, the corner of his mouth twitched again.

_There's that tic again. Does he only get that when he's nervous? Why did it start in the first place, and why have I never noticed it before? _She pondered, she watched the corner of his mouth in queer fascination. She couldn't quite pull her eyes away.

"Lets, uh…" he trailed off, his eyes squinted a little, she could see he was searching his brain for the answer. "Lets…"

It was unfortunate that Hodges had chosen that moment to enter the break room, giving Grissom the excuse he needed to fall silent altogether. Hodges made his way to the fridge none the wiser, and Grissom got to his feet and without saying anything, he left the break room.

Hodges turned and looked at the open door Grissom had left through, "he's in a weird mood today, isn't he?"

"I hadn't noticed," Sara replied softly, finished her coffee.

"Mid-life crisis," Hodges shrugged, grabbed a can of soda from the fridge, and left abruptly.

* * *

**Grissom**

* * *

_Lets._

That was the best he could come up with after spending three and a half minutes considering what he'd say. He swore mentally at himself as he headed towards Jim Brass's office.

_All you had to do was add in a few extra words, Grissom,_ he thought angrily. _Lets…go see a movie. Lets…eat some vegetarian food together. Lets…go back to my place and discuss Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Lets...talk about this later. _

He shook his head at his own inept ability to string together a decent sentence when it came to Sara. He knocked at Jim's office before entering. Jim was flicking through reports while eating a burger from a cardboard box.

Jim raised his eyes to Grissom, wiped his mouth with a napkin, "your chin went bald."

"Apparently so," Grissom remarked.

"Mid-life crisis?" Jim queried, still finishing a mouthful of burger.

"Accident shaving. Cath was working the Fisher case with you, but she's not in today, so I'll be working her case with you. Your suspect is in for questioning now, Jim."

"Ah, the guy is gonna be in jail for the next eighteen months anyway, lets call this a crash course in learning to wait."

Grissom raised an eyebrow and folded his arms.

"You look tired, you pulled a double?" Jim asked, he had a large paper cup of soda and he took a fast sip.

"Didn't get much sleep," Grissom confessed.

"You're working too hard," Jim responded.

"Look who's one to talk, you're on overtime right now," Grissom retorted.

"Difference is I go home, I relax. You go home and work on stuff you took home with you," Jim smirked, he took a last bite from the burger, closed the box with the leftovers and tossed it in the trash basket under his desk.

Grissom had no response to this, and simply walked along the side of Brass as they made their way to the interrogation room their suspect was waiting in. In the hall, they passed Sara Sidle.

Brass gave her a wink and a smile, Grissom on the other hand did nothing, and wished afterwards he could have at least managed some kind of nod of acknowledgement to her presence.

_Maybe it's just as well she suggested we forget the whole thing,_ he thought at himself dully._ I don't think I'm going to be able to find it in myself to ever say what she needs to hear. That's why I gave her the page, because I couldn't quite say it. _

Once in the interrogation room, he tried to push all thoughts of Sara out of his mind and focused on the job. The job was important, putting the creep who'd beat up wife, was more important right now than love, or books, or the right words.

All through the interrogation he'd done a pretty good job of staying professional and keeping his personal problems out of his mind entirely. Or at least, he thought he had.

When the interrogation was over however, the suspect was taken into custody of a police officer and escorted out of the interrogation room. There was a moment when both men sat in silence, and finally Brass turned to Grissom.

"What's with you?" he suddenly asked out of the blue.

Grissom turned took look at his old friend, "hmm?" he asked.

Jim just shook his head, "You've been funny ever since yesterday."

"Define 'funny'," Grissom suggested.

"I don't need to 'define' it, you know what I'm talkin' about," Jim gave him a stern look yet added in a half smile.

"And if I do?" Grissom asked, he got up, pushed the chair in towards the table, then made his way towards the door, aware Jim was following.

"You don't trust me?"

Grissom shook his head, smiled, but didn't reply.

"Y'know, when I left your office after my shift had ended, I was thinking to myself," Jim began, "it struck me as kinda funny, really. Sara came to work looking like a million bucks, and I thought 'now why would she be dressing like that today?'."

Although he had a feeling he knew where this discussion was going, and he was desperate to end it before it had really began, Grissom said nothing, he simply walked along the side of Jim and kept quiet.

"How long do you think she stood in front of a mirror trying to look likethat, Gil?" Jim suddenly asked.

Grissom stopped in his tracks, as did Jim, "What are you getting at?"

"You know what I'm getting at," Jim scoffed, "she sure as hell didn't come to work looking that good for Nick or Greg, and it certainly isn't me she dolled herself up for."

Grissom very much wished his phone would start to ring so that he'd have an excuse to end the conversation with Jim.

"You're not the kind of man who sits around and waits for things to come to him, Gil," Jim stated. "When you wanted to be a bug expert, you went for it, when you wanted to be a CSI, you went for it. Whenever you have a case that's unsolvable you keep going back to it until you get it – you don't give up and you don't let go of it."

"So?" Grissom asked, he inwardly winced that this was the most intelligent response thing he could find.

Jim rolled his eyes, "nothing stops you from getting what you want if you have your heart setting on it…"

Grissom looked away, he pursed his lips together, and held his tongue, there were several things he wanted to say but didn't feel like admitting to his old friend.

"I gotta go, I have some phone calls to make," Jim glanced at his watch.

"Yeah, you, uh, go do that," Grissom nodded, and turned to leave before Jim had even managed to say "see you later."

* * *

**Sara**

* * *

The evidence she'd obtained at the crime scene just hadn't been enough to paint a clear picture of who had attacked the victim. She'd gone back to the hospital again to try and get more from the girl, but had been unsuccessful, and one more trip to the crime scene hadn't proved helpful either. 

The shift was drawing to a close and she was no closer to finding the rapist. She sat on a stool at the large illuminated table in one of the layout rooms examining photos of the victim's bruises, searching the victim's clothes for what felt like the twentieth time.

Exhaustion had settled in fairly well by now, and her limbs were heavy and aching. Despite her fatigue, the thought of asking Grissom for overtime so she could spend more time on this case had crossed her mind more than once. She decided against this though, knowing he'd probably object because she'd already used up all her overtime for the month.

Sara stared down at the photos, relaxing her eyes hoping she might catch a glimpse of something that hadn't been obvious before. Still nothing, and when there was nothing to see in her work, her mind switched to thoughts of Grissom once again, and of course, the page that was now folded up and in her pocket.

"Trouble with a case?"

Sara raised her eyes to see Jim Brass standing in the doorway, his jacket over his shoulder, a little perspiration on his forehead, "how'd you guess?"

"I passed by here an hour ago, looks like you haven't moved an inch since then," Jim smirked.

Sara rubbed the back of her neck, "I have a rape case with very little evidence…"

"You look like you need some serious R and R," Jim admitted.

"Right now, I need at least a large coffee," Sara confessed.

"Good idea," Jim brightened.

"Hmm?" Sara asked.

"Lets meet at the diner down the street after shift for some coffee and breakfast," Jim smiled broadly, "how about it?"

Sara paused to consider this. As exhausted as she was, breakfast sounded incredibly good.

It had been such a long time since she'd shared breakfast with anyone, and the thought of going home alone to dwell on Grissom and the events of the morning before didn't appeal to her. At least going to breakfast with Jim would give her a temporary escape from that.

"Sure."

"See you there," Jim gave a casual wave and headed off, disappearing around a corner.

Sara gave a soft smile, and wished that Grissom was more like Jim. Jim Brass had no problems talking to people, if he had something to say, he'd say it – sometimes he lacked the decorum Grissom always managed, but at least he'd speak his thoughts.

Grissom hadn't been able to finish the sentence he'd started; "lets…". Jim had managed it without even faltering. If only Grissom's sentence had finished with 'coffee and breakfast', maybe her world wouldn't feel quite so solitary.

Sara felt herself cheering up ever so slightly, and told herself that she could discuss the case with Jim and maybe he'd be able to offer some kind of insight, point her in the direction she should be going, because as far as the case was going, she felt very lost indeed.

After clearing away the evidence and victim and crime scene photos, she stepped into the locker room, Greg and Nick were in there laughing about something that Greg had said, they both glanced over their shoulders at the sound of her footsteps.

"Long shift," Nick commented, he smiled warmly at her.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Sara opened her locker and took her bag and jacket out.

Greg's demeanor had brightened a little, but she could see some traces of their discussion were still lingering, it was in the way he looked at her. "Want to catch some breakfast at McDonalds?" he asked of her, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could, "I've had this mad craving for a Sausage McMuffin since 2am."

"Ah, y'know…I've kinda got plans," Sara forced a smile, "but thanks anyway."

"Maybe another time then? I'm buying." something in his voice and his eyes told Sara he was trying to delicately make peace with her over their discussion at the start of shift.

_Even Greg doesn't have a problem asking someone to breakfast, either,_ Sara despaired, she pulled her jacket on. "Sure," she nodded, and smiled, she pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder, "see you guys later."

The diner was busy at 8.15am, and Jim had yet to arrive. She found one table empty, and took a seat. After five minutes, Jim had still not arrived and she felt herself drifting in and out of a doze. She blinked herself out of it, and ordered some strong black coffee, and waited.

When she began to grow weary of waiting, she took the page out of her pocket, unfolded it, and laid it out on the table for something to read, never quite able to lose herself in the words.

* * *

**Grissom**

* * *

The moment he stepped into the diner he felt instantly foolish, and more importantly angry he'd let himself be fooled. 

He should have looked for Jim's car parked outside, but hadn't thought to, still far too distracted with his thoughts. Even if he hadn't seen Jim's car he'd have only assumed Jim was running late and he was the first to arrive to the diner.

When he saw the back of her head, the distinct curl of her layers and the plum-coloured top she was wearing, he knew at once why Jim wasn't there. Jim hadn't intended to meet him there at all.

It had been Grissom's idea to go for breakfast at the diner in the first place – something he now realized was a huge mistake. He hadn't eaten anything in twenty-four hours, and had only become aware of the neglect his stomach was beginning to feel about twenty minutes before the end of shift.

_I should have never called Jim and invited him out to breakfast,_ Grissom thought and he almost audibly groaned in disbelief. He'd given Jim a very good opportunity to put him in a tight spot.

To confirm his that it might really be her, he looked through the glass of the door and realized Sara Sidle's car was indeed parked right outside. He'd walked right by it, and hadn't even noticed. There were so many cars in Las Vegas like it, he wouldn't have given it a second thought.

He had two choices in this situation. He could turn and walk away, chances were, if he himself had thought he was meeting Jim there, then it was probably likely Sara thought she was meeting Jim there too.

_If I walk away from this it's going to be Jim she's mad at, not me,_ he realized, and almost thought this was funny.

On the other hand, he quickly realized he was not the kind of man who would walk out on a woman sitting alone at a table waiting for someone, knowing that someone was never going to show. He wasn't going to leave her there feeling stupid and stood up by an old friend.

_But what would I say to her? Would we need to talk about yesterday? Or…would we just talk about work? Do we have to discuss what Jim did here to both of us?_

He stood there silent, trying to figure out exactly what he'd do, but it seemed futile. He knew from experience no matter what he seemed to say to her, it was never the right words for the situation, and whatever he did wasn't quite adequate enough.

Grissom took a deep breath, straightened his posture a little, and walked over to the table, hovering there so that his shadow loomed over her.

She turned and raised her eyes, he saw the surprise there on her face, he knew how she felt, he felt that connection. They were both in the same boat, this wasn't what either of them had really intended, but it was just a fact they'd both have to deal with now.

"Grissom," she said, putting her coffee cup down, "what are you—" she began, but couldn't quite seem to finish the thought.

"Uh…Jim called, and, uh, said…he couldn't make it, but you were waiting for him…" Grissom lied. He hated having to lie to her, he was sure she'd see right through that phony excuse.

But she didn't seem to be looking for the lies behind his words, and all she gave was a simple, "oh."

"I was…coming here anyway," he added, and he wondered if she'd expect him to sit or to go find his own table. Maybe she'd just get up and say goodbye and leave since Jim was no longer coming.

There were so many things that could happen right then, but so far, nothing seemed to be happening. She was just sitting there, and he was just standing there, and both of them seemed unsure of what was supposed to happen.

He understood that it would be the right thing to do to ask her if he could join her, and offer to buy her breakfast, but the words were having a hard time forming in his brain, and by the time they were ready to come to his mouth, they seemed almost long forgotten.

Finally, Sara broke the silence between them, "there's no other tables."

"I noticed," he looked around, pretending this had been concerning him as to the matter of where he'd sit. It gave him an opening though to ask if he could join her, it made it almost easier afterwards to ask. "May I join you?"

Sara gave a brief nod, needing not a second even to consider it. Her eyes never left him as he took the seat opposite her.

He couldn't help but let his eyes fall to the table, and saw the page sitting there, looking like a shadow of it's former self. It was no longer crisp and only slightly aged, some of the ink was smudged, there were crinkles where it had been crumpled up, there was dirt on the edges, and lines where it had been folded.

Because of his passion for books, he couldn't help but find his voice on the subject, "is that…?" he couldn't finish, but he knew she'd understand.

"Yeah, it is."

"It…looks like it's been through a lot…since yesterday," he admitted, he couldn't take his eyes off of it and knew he must have been gaping in alarm at the mess it was in.

"How's the book?" she asked softly.

He swallowed nervously, "Still the same…just…"

"Incomplete?" she finished for him.

"Yes…"

"And both are damaged now," she remarked rather matter-of-factly.

Grissom knew exactly what she meant, and it shook him to the core. He reached out and put the tips of his bare fingers on the page, touching it without gloves for the first time, "I'm responsible for that, aren't I?"

"Not completely," she admitted.

"What do you think the chances are that it could be repaired, Sara?" he studied the edges of the page, his eyes did not leave the page, and neither did his fingers.

Sara paused for a moment, and she reached out to touch the page, the tips of her fingers touched his, and he didn't move his hand away, "I think the damage will still be there, but…" her voice softened, "there's probably hope for it yet."

"I'm glad," he admitted, and he tilted his head down a little, then looked at her from beneath his brows, "because I'd like to know how it ends."

* * *

**_The End_

* * *

**

_**Hope it wasn't too boring and I hope some of you are happy with this sequel - I know a few people requested one. If you like it, review, I like to know what people think. I think I might have been a little OOC with Brass on this one, but I'll let you guys be the judge. **_

_**- Ash**_


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